


Doors Unlocked and Open

by Clocks



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Based on the music of Death Cab for Cutie, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Parks and Rec AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5501147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocks/pseuds/Clocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is certain that the new auditor Erik has come to ruthlessly slash at his department’s ailing budget. Sure enough, all they do is argue, bicker and fight. </p><p>Charles has never wanted to kiss anyone more in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enemies to Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afrocurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/gifts).



> For [afrocurl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl), whom I’ve owed a birthday fic for 3 years now because I suck. Happy birthday dude!
> 
> (This is loosely based on the TV series ‘Parks and Rec’. However, you don’t have to be familiar with the series to understand the fic.)
> 
> A huge thank you to my lovely beta xsilverdreamsx who rocks the casbah. All remaining mistakes are mine.

 

“So I have good news and bad news.” Raven sailed into the office with her scarf fluttering behind her, a red latte cup in each hand. Charles felt his eyebrows shoot up; if Raven was going twenty minutes out of her way to get him the new Christmas drink from Brooke’s instead of the watered-down shite from next door, then it must be really _bad_ news.

“The good news first, then,” Charles said, warily accepting the beverage from her and prying open the lid. The gingerbread scent that wafted out soothed his nerves a little, steeling him for whatever madness headed his way. He took a tentative sip, batting away the temptation to dip into Raven’s mind and snatch a clue or two.

He didn’t have to wait long. “You don’t have to rush your presentation anymore,” Raven said, waving absently at the stacks of printed spreadsheets laid out over his desk on top of one another, like filo pastry. “Moira’s pushed back the budget meeting.”

“Oh!” That was good news indeed. Charles had been stressing over the presentation for the last few days, sending his staff out on fact-checking missions and data collection runs. He hadn’t told anyone that he had been worried about making the deadline tomorrow, but maybe he didn’t have to. Everyone had been commenting on his late nights at the office, and some even left him surreptitious treats on his desk. In fact, the crumpled wrapper for Armando’s protein bar was still crinkled up next to his laptop.

“So what’s the bad news?” Charles asked. The grimace on Raven’s face - as though she’d tasted something nasty - would have been comical if it weren’t for the situation at hand.

What she said next was so mind-boggling that Charles thought he had heard wrongly at first. But he could see it clear as day in her mind; it was the truth. He slumped back in his desk chair, stunned.

It took a while for the news to sink in, and Charles just stared at his latte while Raven shifted and fidgeted on the table. “I know, I know, it sucks,” Raven said.

“I need to go talk to Moira.” A dazed Charles stood up, dusting the protein bar crumbs off his pants and letting his feet take him automatically to Moira’s office at the end of the corridor.  
  
***  
  
When Charles stepped in, the sight that greeted him simply reaffirmed everything Raven had told him minutes ago. Moira had her feet propped up on her desk, uncharacteristically ignoring her paperwork while she cradled a glass of something dark amber. As Charles shut the door, she gestured for him to sit down while she slid out another matching glass. Her serene expression matched her mental state; her mind was as clear and still as an alpine lake.

Charles watched her expertly retrieve her private stash of whiskey deep from the bowels of her filing cabinet before she sloshed a generous amount into his glass. “So Westchester County is really bankrupt?” he said faintly.

“It’s not confirmed yet,” she corrected him. “But yes, it’s highly likely.”

“What’s going to happen? How can we be on the brink of bankruptcy?” He downed the whiskey as soon as she handed it to him. At least it burned less than the disappointment in his throat.

Moira gave him an elegant shrug. “With Stryker in charge, I have a few good guesses. But we’ll find out what happened soon enough. They’re sending in two state budget auditors from Hammer Bay.” She turned to gaze thoughtfully through her now empty whiskey glass, holding it up in front of the window. In the courtyard, Alex and Armando were struggling to put up the holiday banners in preparation for next week, caught in some mute squabble.

Right. Well, Charles would probably have to break the bad news to them that the Christmas celebrations would be cancelled. No office party this year, no Secret Santa, probably not even the little dishes of candy canes left out on Alex’s receptionist desk for visitors. In the eyes of the taxpayers, those might seem like an unnecessary frivolous expenditure in the face of a financial crisis.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Moira suggested, both her smile and tone gentle. Charles wondered what sort of vibe he must be giving off if she was subconsciously treating him like a spooked horse. “If there are any updates, you’ll be the first to hear. I promise.”

Charles couldn’t quite bear the thought of being idle all day and worrying endlessly about the budget deficit, so he said, “I’d much rather stay here, if you don’t mind.”

He had never appreciated her more when Moira simply gave him a thoughtful nod, pouring him two more fingers of whiskey without another word.  
  
***  
  
The following Tuesday, the state budget auditors arrived to little fanfare at the Mutant Affairs Department. At that moment Charles was still in his office, dishearteningly formatting all his spreadsheets for the nth time and trying to ignore the rows of red numbers at the bottom. When he sensed a sudden spike of displeasure and hostility from the bullpen, it was as good a confirmation as any that the auditors were here. Charles straightened his jacket one last time, squaring his shoulders before he stepped outside. The rest of the M.A.D. employees were standing in a ragged semicircle, glaring at two suits who had planted themselves in the middle of the office.

One man was older and clearly in charge, with his greying hair and a smug air of superiority. He smiled too much with his mouth and not his eyes, dispatching some charming speech about how they were here only to make things run more smoothly and efficiently, how they’d need everyone’s help, how he just _knew_ everyone would get along swimmingly. The other man was taller but younger, his arms folded across his broad chest. He was strikingly handsome in a movie-star way that made Charles’ skin prickle with attraction. Unfortunately, the man’s stern, grim expression was off-putting, the nonverbal equivalent of a ‘STAY AWAY’ sign. Like his mentor, the man hadn’t noticed Charles’ entrance; currently his gaze was fixed on the sign above Bobby’s cubicle that said, _‘You don’t have to be M.A.D. to work here, but it helps.’_

“Oh hi there.” The man who had been giving the speech had finally spotted Charles. “I’m Sebastian Shaw, from the state auditor’s office in Hammer Bay.” He gestured to the man behind him. “My associate, Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Charles Francis, Deputy Director of Mutant Affairs,” Charles said, shaking Shaw’s hand and resisting the urge to wipe off his own on his trousers. “I’m afraid Director MacTaggert will be stuck in meetings all day.”

“Of course.” The broad grin on Shaw’s face barely shifted, but Charles was taken aback at the sudden burst of vindictive glee from the man’s mind that accompanied the thought, _Never trust a human to do a mutant’s job._ Charles kept his mouth clamped shut, deciding to just wait and observe so he knew how much warning he needed to give Moira.

“Hello,” said a low, soft voice. Charles was embarrassed when he realised he had completely missed Erik’s outstretched hand.

“I’m so sorry, my friend.” This time Charles’ grip was firmer, as if in apology. He could sense Erik’s wariness and confusion at being called ‘friend’ so soon. But at least Erik returned his grip, and after a long moment, a brief sense of a smile.

 

 

* * *

  


Erik had been on this side of the table many times before. He even had a routine for it, one shaped and perfected by ten years of experience. Enduring crying employees, being lied to, getting called a colourful variety of names, even having (thankfully lukewarm) tea tossed in his face: Erik had encountered every possible worst case scenario and come out unscathed. This was why Shaw made him do this. When they worked together, Erik was forced to be the harbinger of bad tidings, the one to look after the bottom line and do the dirty work while Shaw swanned about, building network connections for his own benefit. This was fine, though. Erik was good at what he did and took pride in bringing various cities and towns back from the brink of bankruptcy. His methods never failed him; they wouldn’t fail Westchester County now.

This was Erik’s ironclad (pun unintended) routine for budget meetings with various departments:

1) Come armed with the files and binders he would require,  
2) Ask the Director and/or their underlings about any areas in their department where they can trim the fat,  
3) After being met with denial or outrage, tell them the exact areas that need to be slashed,  
4) Wait out any ensuing drama or floods of tears. Leave if necessary. Check in 72 hours later to ensure the department has made the cuts.  
5) If not, get Shaw’s approval and sign off on the cuts himself.

So after Shaw had left the office, Erik sat down with the Director of Mutant Affairs and her deputy. Everything was ready, his files all laid out neatly in front of him. He opened his mouth, about to launch into Step 2 without preamble when the deputy unexpectedly blurted out, “I really like your shirt.”

Erik gave him a quizzical stare. “I’m sorry?”

The man - Charles, was it? - had an open, flirtatious smile that seemed out of place in a government boardroom and more at home in a darkened club, or a bar. Erik had a special talent for sniffing out sycophants a mile away, but Charles’ eyes seemed to be genuinely warm as they roved appreciatively over his shirt. His eyes were that unfair quality of blue that sucked up all the attention in the room. “Your shirt. It’s from the Zegna fall collection, isn’t it?”

Erik was taken aback. “Yes, yes it is.”

Charles sat back with a faintly triumphant expression. Director MacTaggert’s mouth merely curled with amusement.

“Right,” Erik said, reminding himself not to get thrown off and to stick to the script. “So I wanted to ask the two of you where you think there is waste within your department.”

Charles and Moira exchanged a glance. “None,” Charles said with conviction. “We account for every penny and use it wisely.”

This was beginning to be more familiar territory for Erik. He opened his favourite binder - the metal-edged one emblazoned with the Genosha state logo - and flipped through his colour-coded notes. “I’ll give you an example of what we’re targeting to cut,” Erik explained. “For instance, it says here that your department spent 12% of your budget last financial year on segregated school buses for mutant kids.”

Moira only nodded, while Charles’ brow was creased in a frown. “That’s right,” he said slowly. “Is there an issue?”

“Why do you deem this a necessary expenditure?” Erik asked.

Charles sat up indignantly, but Moira placed a hand on his arm and replied, “It is for their safety. There were several reported cases of bullying and fighting on the school buses, specifically targeted towards mutant children. We found that having them ride to school in their own bus let them feel safer.”

Erik’s grip tightened on his binder. “It seems to me you're going about this the wrong way,” he said evenly. “The solution is not to segregate mutant kids and alienate them even more from the baseline children. The solution is to teach the humans that bullying is not tolerated.”

“That is all very well and good,” Charles said, “but that kind of change takes time, my friend. We were more concerned about the immediate safety of the mutant children. And combating the absenteeism rate, which is skyrocketing as it is.”

“Separate school buses are the best solution,” Moira agreed.

“Anyway it is a moot point,” Erik said, striking it off on his notes. “You do not have the budget for the buses. They’re out.”

“Can’t we do something?” Charles said, but Erik was already moving on to the next point.

“Another area we can trim the budget is personnel,” he said. “Ms. MacTaggert, you currently have ten full-time staff, plus two part-timers and an intern. Nine of them are mutants.”

“Yes.” Moira’s face was utterly impassive. This woman was good at playing her cards close to the chest.

“Since you need to trim your department budget by 48%, you must get rid at least three, maybe four full-time employees.” Erik slashed at his notes again. “I strongly suggest letting the baseline ones go, but it is your call.”

The warmth was entirely gone from Charles’ eyes. “You’re an arsehole,” he said, colour rising in his cheeks.

So the name-calling had begun. Pity, Charles had seemed entirely reasonable until now. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Francis,” Erik said, trying not to let his irritation get the better of him.

Charles made a sweeping gesture towards the bullpen outside. “Those are good, honest people out there,” he said sharply. “I won’t allow you to talk about them as though they’re just _numbers--_ ”

"'Allow' me?” Erik’s binder flew shut with a snap of his fingers. There was something so self-righteous about this Charles fellow that was getting him riled up in a way only Shaw had ever managed. “I’m not the enemy here, Mr. Francis. You would do well to remember that I didn’t bankrupt your town, your government did.”

“I know you’re just _doing your job_.” The contempt in Charles’ voice made it sound as though Erik’s job involved peddling drugs or clubbing seals. “But how can you go about it so callously? Taking away buses for mutant kids, really?”

There was a low, ominous hum in the room. It was only when both Charles’ and Moira’s eyes widened that Erik realised all the metal in the boardroom was vibrating with his anger. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and the hum died down. “I’ll get what I need from your spreadsheets, thanks,” he said shortly as he gathered his things, then left the room without looking back.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, cheer up.” Raven set down another gingerbread latte on his desk. “So you guys got off to a bad start, it’s not the end of the world.”

“He’s an arsehole.” And Charles stood by it. He had spent the afternoon debating whether to treat with Shaw instead, but given the duplicity of that man’s thoughts, Charles decided that Shaw absolutely wasn’t to be trusted, which left Erik as the lesser evil. At least Erik spoke his mind and he wasn’t prone to deceit. Still, Charles had been staying away from both of them all week. Moira had assigned them a corner office near the breakroom, and if Charles wanted a snack from the vending machine outside, he made himself take the long way around so he wouldn't have to walk past the door. If they had happened to bump into each other, Erik did him the same courtesy of ignoring him or walking the other way. Communication was restricted to curt, brusque emails, or through Moira.

Raven leaned in, her brunette-for-the-day ringlets brushing against his desk. “Is it true they’re going to fire people?”

Erik’s suggestion that they lay off all the non-mutants made Charles’ anger flare up again. “They can try.” He was not worried about his own livelihood, or Raven’s. His trust fund meant the both of them never had to worry about money, but he knew his staff needed their jobs. “Moira and I are going to fight them over every step of the way.”

Raven chewed on her lip. “Hank said they did the same thing in the City Engineer’s department and laid off lots of his co-workers. He’s doing the work of three people now.”

“Poor old chap.” Charles let out a sigh.

“Well, at least we have tonight to look forward to,” Raven said cheerfully. “I really need to get my drink on and my club on, and forget this whole horrible week.”

Charles stared at her with a confused expression until she was laughing. “Angel’s birthday celebration tonight at _Mystique_?” she reminded him. “Did you forget already? She’s going to kill you.”

“Oh!” Suddenly his mood lifted; it _would_ be nice to just let loose and forget all this budget nonsense that had been plaguing him all week. “I haven’t gotten her a present, though.”

“We can share.” Raven bent down to plant a distracted kiss on his cheek, eyes glued to her phone. “‘Kay, gotta run. Pick me up after work, we can grab dinner first before we head to the club together, okay?”

“Of course.” Charles smiled as he watched her scurry out of his office, then picked up the gingerbread latte she’d bought him. He felt better already.  
  
***  
  
They arrived just after ten, when the club was starting to get full. Armando and Alex, by virtue of being early, had managed to snag a table near the bar. Angel was sitting in the middle, beaming while surrounded by friends and unwrapped presents. The club was mutant-friendly, so her beautiful wings were unfurled in their full glory. “Charles!” she called out when she saw him, pulling him in for a hug. Her thoughts were light and sparkly like a fizzy drink, and Charles figured out why when he spotted the several empty shot-glasses littered around the table.

“Happy birthday, my dear!” he shouted over the dance anthem booming through the club. When it was Raven’s turn to hug her, he excused himself to the bar to get the next round.

Tapping his credit card on the bartop, he gave his orders to the harried bartender before standing back to wait for his drinks. The atmosphere in the club tonight was generally one of happiness, excitement and anticipation, and Charles soaked in the buzz of his surroundings like a cat basking in the sun. The couple waiting at the bar beside him were still in the giddy throes of a new relationship, flirting and smiling coyly at each other, while back at their table, Armando’s mind was shining like a beacon, broadcasting fondness as he listened to Alex telling him some funny story about another department. Charles folded the thought away with a sly smile, fully intending to tease Armando about his obviousness another time.

“Charles!” He turned quickly, beaming when he spotted a glammed-up Moira dressed to the nines.

“Look at you, you look bloody amazing.” He kissed both her cheeks in greeting, trying not to feel a little dowdy compared to the effort she’d put in. He had come straight from the office and it was hard not to feel a little stale in his work clothes.

Moira pretended to toss her hair in disdain. “I can clean up real nice if I want to.”

“Temptress,” he teased her, but grew serious when he sensed the intent in her mind. “What’s the matter?”

At that moment, the bartender returned with Charles’ drinks, depositing them on the bar. Moira waited until he left, her expression calm but her mental state was a mix of determination and anxiety, which always preceded some odious task she meant to task him to do. “You might want to get something stronger,” she said, gesturing towards his standard gin and tonic.

“Why?” A wary Charles asked, before he caught a flash of the memory Moira was projecting at him: she and Angel in the breakroom earlier today, talking about the party, Erik walking in, Angel tossing him a casual invite…

“Oh bloody hell,” Charles groaned.

“Be civil,” Moira warned him with a squeeze of his bicep. “We still have to work with them for another two weeks.”

“I can be civil,” he said, which made her nose wrinkle with doubt. He smacked her on the shoulder for good measure, making her laugh.

   


* * *

 

Of course Charles would be at the party. Erik had considered the possibility when Angel had extended him the invitation to her birthday party, but in the end he had decided that he and Charles were adults and could be polite to each other outside work. Erik never had any problem with establishing a clear demarcation between his work and personal life, and he couldn’t understand people who played with the line like a jump rope.

Charles was standing at the bar with Moira, both of them conversing loudly over the music as they sipped at their drinks. Even without Charles’ cufflinks and Rolex calling out to Erik’s senses, he still found his eye drawn to the strong, lean lines of Charles’ arms, the red purse of his lips. _That way madness lies,_ Erik reminded himself, striding towards the bar for his own drink. After a moment’s hesitation, he ordered a gin and tonic as well.

Charles’ surprise when Erik brought the drink over was satisfying. “Hello, Mr. Lehnsherr,” he said guardedly.

Moira smirked at both of them. “Hi, Erik. Excuse me, gentlemen, while I go pass on my wishes to the birthday girl.”

As Moira slinked away, Charles shot her a dismayed stare; Erik had no doubt there was some kind of telepathic conversation going on about him and Moira’s purposeful abandonment. Before he could change his mind, Erik handed Charles the drink. “A truce,” he explained. “Surely we could enjoy ourselves for a night without biting each other’s head off.”

As Erik expected, Charles was too well-mannered to ignore the olive branch. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a little tight as he took a sip from his new drink.

“I also meant to congratulate you on getting the school buses,” Erik said, setting down his drink. “Good thing that grant from the Brian and Sharon Xavier Foundation came through when it did.”

Charles didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth tugged upwards a little, making him look impish. Erik pulled his gaze away, reminding himself that he shouldn’t be staring at people’s mouths like that.

“A toast, then,” Charles said, holding up his glass, and Erik clinked it.

***

Erik had meant to politely excuse himself after making peace with Charles, but somehow they both ended up gravitating towards each other at various points throughout the night. Erik was tipsy enough to get reeled into the arguments Charles was baiting him with, like why humans should not be working with mutant affairs (although he did have to concede that MacTaggert was possibly the best, most scarily competent director he’d met) and how budget cuts were missing the point of public service. The loud music also meant he and Charles had to shout to be heard, but it was certainly no hardship having Charles’ warm breath against his ear. As the night wore on, Charles continued to imbibe a staggering amount of alcohol; this was just counting the ones Erik had seen him order.

This, however, also meant Charles leaning heavily against Erik to steady himself. At one point, his strong, square hands were firmly planted on Erik’s waist as though they were glued there.

“So tiny,” Charles said wonderingly as he stared down at Erik’s waist. Just how high was he? “Just-- um, tiny and so _unfair_ , why do you have to look like that…”

“Look like what?” Erik wasn’t sure whether to be amused or flattered. Charles’ eyes jumped up to meet his; they were a little bleary, but no less blue as he stared up at Erik. “Charles, are you okay?”

“No.” Charles shook his head, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. And Erik really should step away, because he was auditing this man’s department and the last thing he needed were more complications. This was starting to blur the boundaries between work and play, and Erik reminded himself to keep the doors between them closed and firmly locked.

“I’ll get you some coffee,” Erik said instead. He really meant it, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to step away without Charles losing his balance. He tried taking letting Charles stand on his own, and sure enough he wobbled. “All right, I think it’s time to find your sister.”

“Kay.” Charles was now nuzzling against Erik’s chest, and Erik ignored the way his pulse was racing. He craned his neck to scan the crowd for Raven, who could be in any disguise or form she had chosen for the day. It was a pity that she did not stick more often to her natural blue form, which Erik frankly found stunning.

Navigating the tipsy, gyrating revellers around him was harder than it looked, so Erik unashamedly took to yanking people aside with their watches or jewellery, but they seemed too high to notice except for a few, ‘hey!’s. Erik took his chances with a few likely women and asked them, “Raven?” but they either ignored him or shook their heads (one gave both him and Charles a naked look of interest). Finally Erik settled on a tall redhead who was wearing familiar hoop earrings, and indeed he was right when the redhead’s eyes widened at them.

“Charles?” A flicker of blue scales as she reverted to her favourite blond form. She was shaking Charles’ shoulder worriedly. “Jesus, Charles, how much did you have to drink?”

“It’s Erik’s fault,” Charles proclaimed, making Raven raise an eyebrow at Erik.

“I didn’t do anything.” Erik held his hands up placatingly. “I bought him one drink, just one.”

Raven let out a sigh. “Did you happen to see if he’s been mixing drinks all night?”

Erik vaguely recalled two whiskey sours and a strawberry margarita that had made Charles’ lips more unfairly red than usual. “Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s just great,” she flatly said in a tone that indicated it was anything but. She was starting to shift his arm around her shoulder when Erik stopped her.

“I’ve got him.” He slung Charles’ arm around his own shoulders, hunching down so that he and Charles were of a height. Raven was eyeing Erik suspiciously, as though he might make off with her brother or her purse at any moment. Erik couldn’t help wondering what Charles must have been saying about him all week.

There was another suspicious stare when Erik waved off her insistence of calling a cab, since Charles was clearly in no state to drive and Erik thought it would be unfair to make Raven manage both the wheel and her drunk brother. Instead he led them to his Honda, which was parked nearby.

“Keys?” Raven held out her hand.

“No need.” With a wave of his hand Erik unlocked the doors and flung them open, trying not to feel too pleased at Raven’s awed, ‘Cool!’

Once they had all piled in, Erik headed towards the address Raven gave him, keeping an eye on Charles in the rearview mirror as he dozed against Raven’s shoulder. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had been butting heads with Erik all week in meetings. In sleep - with his flushed cheeks, dark tousled hair and long lashes - Charles gave off an air of innocence and vulnerability that tugged at something in Erik’s chest.

Erik forced himself to look away, reminding himself of boundaries and locked doors.

***

There were meetings with the city manager and Councilwoman Frost on Monday, so Erik spent the weekend finishing his presentation and pulling up the files he needed while nursing a mild hangover. Having spent a decade working on the road, he was used to turning the worst of motel rooms into a fairly serviceable office (as long as they had enough space for him to plug in his beloved coffeemaker, there was no way he was drinking the swill that 99% of motel rooms provided). He also spent the weekend trying not to think about Charles’ dark head resting against his chest, or the tiny smirks Charles couldn’t hold back whenever he’d won one of their inane little arguments. It should be infuriating, and Erik didn’t want to examine why it wasn’t.

On Sunday evening Erik took a break from work and jogged to the nearest park, which was a few miles from the motel. Westchester had the most well-maintained parks Erik had ever seen, and there were plaques everywhere that bore thank-yous to some generous donation or other from the Brian and Sharon Xavier Foundation. It seemed they were also the benefactors behind several interesting installations in the park, including a mutant-friendly children’s playground and a fountain featuring a beautiful winged boy (this was co-donated by the Worthington Cause). This appealed to Erik’s great love for visible mutations, and he stopped to watch a little blond girl play with her green-skinned friend.

However, Erik’s main affections were reserved for the last installation he came across: a giant chess set that had one side carved in quartz, the other in black granite. The pieces were set out as if mid-game, and Erik ran an admiring hand around the crown of the black rook. A nearby plaque informed him that this was dedicated to the Xaviers’ son, and the statue beside it bore his likeness. Erik stared at the boy’s earnest, unseeing face, then bent down to read the smaller print on the plaque. ‘Charles Francis Xavier’.

Erik laughed.

***

Before the meeting on Monday, Shaw poked through Erik’s presentation and insisted on a few changes, so Erik had no time to run out and grab a latte as planned. He was muttering under his breath and typing hurriedly in Powerpoint when he heard the door to the corner office open. “Come back later, I haven’t done your changes yet,” Erik said, not trying too hard to mask his irritation with Shaw.

There was a red takeaway latte cup set down beside his laptop, and Erik looked up with a frown. Charles was standing in front of his desk, hands in his pockets as he grinned a little sheepishly at Erik. “I love the Christmas flavours from Brooke’s,” he said by way of explanation, gesturing towards the cup he’d set down. “Gingerbread is my favourite.”

Erik’s mouth watered at the prospect of good, delicious coffee he’d previously thought he had to forgo. “Is this a bribe?” Erik’s mouth couldn’t help quirking up.

“A thank you,” Charles corrected him. His eyes looked unbearably soft and affectionate, and Erik had to look away. “I heard from Raven that you made sure we got home safely last Friday night.”

Erik cleared his throat. “Anyone would have done the same,” he said gruffly.

Charles shook his head. “Not everyone,” he said. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to try again. For a fresh start, and all that.”

Somehow that didn’t hold the most appeal for Erik. Did starting over mean that they had to forget what had happened at Angel’s birthday party? He must have hesitated too long, for Charles’ smile was starting to crumple at the edges.

“I’d like that,” Erik said a little too quickly, and Charles’ beamed at him.

 

END OF PART 1


	2. Friends to Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry this is late! I'm generally horrible with deadlines. Anyway, I might continue this as a series based on other plotlines in Parks and Rec but we'll see. Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it very much. A massive thank you to my beta xsilverdreamsx as well!

 

Things were a lot more pleasant at work, now that Charles had extended the olive branch to Erik. Charles wasn't exactly sure what a 'new start' entailed, but he hadn't envisioned it would be this _easy_. Yes, they still argued during budget meetings, but Erik was at least willing to give a little more leeway on certain department expenditures as opposed to his previously rigid stance. After the meetings, they would always hang back to chat, sometimes even go for a coffee together. Somehow, the extra twenty minutes to Brooke's didn't seem that far when he had Erik by his side.

Of course, their newfound friendship was inciting curious whispers and puzzled glances amongst his colleagues. "How did you and Lehnsherr get from snarling at each other to being all cozy?" Armando asked him one morning, after Charles had returned from a coffee run smiling like a loon.

"He's not that bad," Charles said. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, but we're fine now."

"Well, whatever it is you're doing, keep doing it." Armando flipped through his notes. "We're the only department who has lost two staff, the others have lost at least four."

"Are you implying that I'm exploiting my friendship with Erik for the good of our department?" Charles didn't know whether he should pretend to be outraged, or amused.

Whatever Armando's reply was, Charles wouldn't ever know because a very grave-looking Moira suddenly took both of them by the arm and navigated them towards the door. "Emergency meeting with the city council in Boardroom 4, _now_."  
  
***  
  
_'WESTCHESTER CITY MANAGER INVESTIGATED IN EMBEZZLEMENT PROBE'_

_by Jubilation Lee_

_City Manager William Stryker Jr. and four other city employees have been placed on unpaid administrative leave, pending a criminal investigation into allegations that Stryker misappropriated city funds, officials confirmed. This took place after an audit conducted by state officials from Hammer Bay, that uncovered several financial discrepancies within the city's operating budget._

_Mayor Oliver Platt said this could hurt Westchester residents' trust with the city._

_"I'm extremely angry and disappointed, both as mayor of the city and as a taxpayer, because we have worked very hard to build and maintain public confidence," he said. "It is unfortunate that these alleged actions by these soon-to-be-former employees may harm that trust."_

_City Council has also called for a temporary local government shutdown, which will affect all non-essential services...'_  
  


* * *

 

Erik wished he could go to bed for a _week_.

Ever since the scandal had erupted, he had been slogging through long, endless meetings with a parade of people: the city council, the police, the FBI and the district attorney, as well as various colleagues who had made the trek down from Hammer Bay. So far, both Erik and Shaw (well, mostly Erik) had uncovered suspicious practices in the management of ten city funds. And there were eighty-one funds in total.

Erik heavily suspected this was only the tip of the iceberg.

There were also angry citizens picketing outside City Hall, waving vitriolic signs and crude effigies of Stryker. Although Erik could very well understand their fury, it made getting to work a chore. The only fun part of his morning commute was dealing with the press; while Erik's co-workers were forced to battle the throng of reporters outside the building, Erik only ever needed to clench his fist and render all their precious equipment out of order. He would then walk past smugly, ignoring their complaints. It was one of two things he looked forward to everyday.

The other, of course, was standing outside his door now, holding two red latte cups. "You need a break at some point, Erik!" he was yelling, and Erik pretended to heave a mighty sigh as he waved the door open with his powers.

"I'm busy," he said shortly, but that hadn't worked on Charles before, and it certainly wasn't working now as Charles handed Erik his gingerbread latte before making himself at home on the couch meant for visitors.

"I can imagine it's been a madhouse for you since the entire Stryker debacle erupted," Charles said, and Erik couldn't decide if his friend meant to be wry or sympathetic. And wait, were they friends now?

Given that Charles had been plying him with food - and more importantly, coffee - over the past few days during the government shutdown, Erik was in a generous enough mood to decide that yes, yes they were.

"I thought City Hall is closed to all non-essential staff." Friends or not, Erik couldn't resist needling Charles just for the heck of it.

"It is." Charles seemed completely unperturbed by this. Erik was sure Charles wasn't above deploying a mental nudge to get past the security guards in the mornings. "One would think you'd at least be glad to see a friendly face, Mr. Crabby."

"It's not you," Erik said with a sigh. And it really wasn't. Erik was angry for the taxpayers, who had been hoodwinked for so long. There were also the government employees who had gone years without raises, departments who had to cut back and implement austerity measures because Stryker was more interested in giving fat contracts to his buddies in construction and sanitation.

"I know." Charles' tone was unmistakably sympathetic this time. "I can't wait for the shutdown to be over. I want to get back to work."

Erik eyed the mountain of folders on his desk, stacked together so haphazardly that some were precariously leaning over the edge. "And I want work to be over," he muttered. He tried his best to think fondly of his spartan apartment back in Hammer Bay, but failed. At the most, he'd spend a few months of every year in it. Home seemed to be an abstract concept at this point, a foggy amalgamation of nameless motel rooms that held no special meaning for him. For a moment, Erik wondered why he was in this line of work.

Suddenly aware that Charles' gaze was on him, Erik's instincts sharpened into wariness immediately.

Had Charles been eavesdropping on Erik's mini existential crisis? Erik didn't know. Telepaths were rare in government service, usually choosing to deploy their talents in the private sector. The precious few telepathic bureaucrats Erik had met were all high-ranking, like Emma Frost, and Erik was under no illusion that this was a coincidence. Only Charles seemed content to serve under a human director in a division that only ranked slightly above the Parks department and Public Works. Given his background of privilege - which Erik had discovered at the chess installation in the park - one could only wonder what Charles Xavier's real motives were.

"I should leave you to your work," Charles finally said, glancing at his watch. "I need to get going anyway, Moira and I have a public forum to deal with at ten. Wish us luck."

Erik grimaced. "My sympathies. It'll be a fairly unpleasant day for me too, dealing with a stream of idiots hounding me non-stop." Unlike Charles, he didn't have to glance at his watch to sense the time. He looked around. "In fact, it's been an oddly quiet morning. People should have started bugging me an hour ago."

"That's indeed strange. Try to have a nice morning, my friend." Charles flashed him a knowing smirk, waving goodbye with his latte before Erik caught on to what had really happened.

 _By the way, you're welcome,_ a voice whispered in his head, smug and warm. Erik couldn't stop himself from sending back a grumpy yet fond, _Telepathic prat._

 

* * *

 

There were the usual suspects at the public forum, the concerned citizens who always bothered to turn up and question any policy or new initiative from the Mutant Affairs Department. Charles could feel their minds roiling with anger and a burning desire to know what happened, to know what the government had done with their money. He made himself concentrate on the few pools of mental calmness he could sense amongst the crowd: Moira beside him, old Theresa Pryde who had her arm wrapped around her daughter Kitty, Janos Quested who had newly moved here from Venezuela to head the Spanish department at the university.

"I want to know if the buses for the mutant kids will be cut," Mrs Toynbee demanded, her shrill voice rising above the crowd. "I won't have my boy go back to being pushed around on the buses with the human kids." Beside her, a sullen boy lay slumped in his seat, playing with his black-tinted goggles.

"The buses haven't been cut," Moira reassured her. "We managed to get funding elsewhere."

"What about the festival?" someone else shouted.

"The annual 'Mutant and Proud' Festival has been postponed indefinitely," a reluctant Charles announced to a chorus of groans and protests.

"What about people coming from out of state?" A woman with purple hair asked. "My family had made plans to come see me perform, y'know."

"Until the investigation at City Hall has been concluded, government spending has been severely limited. There's no money for the festival," Moira explained. "We're very sorry--"

"Can't we put it on ourselves?" A behemoth of a man that Charles remembered as Piotr got to his feet. "We can run the festival on a volunteer basis! And get local businesses to donate."

Piotr's suggestion seemed to be well-received, judging from the excited babble of voices that were swelling in volume. Charles glanced at Moira, who was surveying the unexpected enthusiasm before her. He sent her a mental poke, arching a questioning eyebrow at her. _What do you think?_

Moira had that thoughtful look which meant she was turning an idea over and over in her head, inspecting it for holes or flaws. _The department can't get involved,_ she sent back. Her next words were less certain: _But we can't stop the public if they want to form a citizen committee._

 _No, we certainly can't_ , Charles thought at her, his smile widening.  
  
***  
  
The Westchester 'Mutant and Proud' Festival had premiered in 1986, when Charles had been five and Raven only three. It always took place during the holidays, sandwiched between Christmas and New Year's. He remembered watching it on the telly with Raven, both of them endlessly fascinated by people with wings and horns and tails, green people and orange people and people who looked 'normal' just like Charles. Initially Mother had made disapproving noises about the whole thing, forbidding the nannies to let her children watch the live broadcast in any form. But when Father found out, he had insisted on taking Charles and Raven to Westchester Park and letting them enjoy the rides and the shows, as well as mingle with the people who were _just like them_. It soon became an annual family outing, sans their mother.

(Eventually Mother had come round to Father's way of thinking, but it had been a very long, arduous journey for her. By then the relationship between Sharon Xavier and her daughter had been damaged beyond repair, and Charles was the only glue that held their tenuous, shaky bond together after Father's death.)

Thus, the festival held extreme significance for Charles, which was why he was determined to participate in his capacity as a private citizen. He'd offered his services to Piotr and Kitty, who seemed to have been elected the _de facto_ leaders of the festival committee. Then Charles located Jean at the foundation and told her that she should be expecting some requests for sizable donations, adding that he'd sign off on most - if not all - of them. _What are you up to now, Charles?_ she sent back, her mental tone teasing and sly.

 _Just doing my part, my dear,_ he sent back, before cutting off their telepathic link.

Helping out as a volunteer was a welcome distraction from the chaos at work, now that Stryker and his cronies had been sacked, arrested and were now facing numerous charges. With their conflicting schedules, Charles barely got to see Erik over these crucial few weeks. From what Moira said, Erik was absolutely _buried_ in work, assisting the police and the district attorney with gathering evidence and building their case. Although Erik had always seemed really glad to see him, Charles decided to stay away from City Hall so that he wouldn't prove to be a distraction.

"Shaw's the interim city manager now," Moira told him when he met her for breakfast (and updates) at Brooke's. "He's got to have some pretty serious connections in Hammer Bay."

"Erik did say something about that," Charles said. "It seems Shaw's quite cosy with Councilwoman Frost too."

"I noticed," Moira said dryly. "Speaking of Erik, your buddy looks like hell. You should take him out for a meal and remind him what daylight looks like."

Charles chuckled. "Oh, he won't want to see me. He's got plenty of other friends he'd rather go out with."

Moira shook her head, her curtain of hair swaying with the movement. "Trust me, he doesn't. The other day, after the emergency budget task force meeting, I spotted him sitting in the courtyard alone, mournfully eating a calzone. It was _sad_ , Charles."

Charles was nonplussed. "How does one mournfully eat a calzone?"

She projected a very clear image at him, and he was taken aback at the tired, sharp gauntness of Erik's face, those grey-green eyes hollow and bruised with lack of sleep and enthusiasm. Maybe Moira had exaggerated a little, but she wasn't far from the truth. The heavy slump of Erik's shoulders made Charles' back ache in sympathy. For all the attention Erik was paying his calzone, it may as well been a wad of cardboard.

"Poor chap." Charles was seized by the sudden desire to head over to City Hall and yank Erik out of the office, taking him out for a proper meal and maybe a chess game, or a walk in the park. For some reason an unbidden image rose in his mind of the chess installation his mother had commissioned in Westchester Park, as a belated apology of sorts for pretending his and Raven's mutations didn't exist.

"Go see him later, he'll be glad for it," Moira said in a tone that brooked no argument, and Charles forced himself to put Erik out of his mind, changing the topic to the preparations for the upcoming festival preparations.

 

* * *

 

Erik knew that he was in this line of work because he was good at it. No, _excellent_ at it. But after two weeks of working extensively on the Stryker investigation, he never wanted to look at another spreadsheet ever again.

He had never been more glad to hand everything over to the corrupt practices team who had arrived from the state office, and his last duty had been to give his statement to the district attorney's office. At least that had been a relatively painless process, given that Ororo Munroe had a direct, no-nonsense approach that Erik appreciated. He had no doubt whatsoever that she had built a watertight case against William Stryker.

Once Erik stepped outside her office, he took in a long deep breath before exhaling. His shoulders rose and fell, sloughing off the weight he'd been subconsciously bearing for weeks.

His steps back to his temporary office were eager and hurried, and he was itching to call someone and share his relief. Before Erik even realised what he was doing, he already had his phone to his ear, the dial tone ringing before Charles picked up, his voice filled with delight. "Erik! What a nice surprise."

"I need a drink," Erik said without preamble, tugging off his tie as he was striding into his office. "A really big one."

"Have you had dinner?" Charles had the amazing ability to sound both stern and amused at the same time.

"I…" Erik vaguely remembered a bagel that Hank, the city engineer, had bought for him out of pity at some point. Half of it was still sitting on Erik's desk, uneaten.

"Right," Charles said with a knowing sigh. "Dinner first, _then_ drinks."

"Fine. Although it won't affect me, not all of us are lightweights." Erik couldn't help smiling at the fond memory of a tipsy Charles resting his head on his chest at Angel's birthday party.

Charles' laugh sounded low and intimate, and Erik ignored the rush of heat in his stomach. "Is that how it is, my friend? I offer fine foods and sparkling companionship in exchange for veiled insults?"

"Veiled? I thought I was quite clear in my contempt for you." Erik only became aware he was grinning like a fool when Shaw stepped into the office. Erik's grin faded immediately. "I'll call you back."

"All right." After a beat, Charles hung up and Erik quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Hey, Sebastian."

Shaw was watching him expectantly, like a hawk. "How did it go with the D.A.?"

"Gave Ororo my statement," Erik said. "She'll be in touch if she needs anything else. But she asked me not to leave town yet, in case they need something else."

Nodding, Shaw was now tracing the edges of a Public Works binder Erik had left out on his desk. "And how was the handover to Levene and his team?"

"Everything's in their hands now." Erik's mouth twisted in an involuntary grimace, but Shaw didn't seem to notice it. Levene was one of those syncopathic yes-men that Erik despised, but at least he was competent enough to see this whole fiasco through. It went without saying that Shaw _loved_ Levene.

"Good, good. Seems like everything's coming along nicely." Shaw sat on the edge of his desk, probably so he could look down his nose at Erik. "Anyway son, I wanted to be the first to tell you this."

Erik sat up, wary. "Tell me what?"

"The city council voted. Apparently, they liked what I was doing as the interim City Manager so they offered me the job, for keeps." Shaw's smile broadened. "I accepted the offer from Councilwoman Frost an hour ago."

"Oh." Erik's mouth dropped open in surprise, before he remembered himself and stood up to shake Shaw's hand. "Congratulations, Sebastian."

"Thanks." Shaw was pleased as punch, but he held up a hand to indicate he wasn't done. "I have news from HQ, too."

Erik held his breath. There could only be two possibilities, so he tried for the more likely one. "They have a new assignment for me?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Shaw said. "They want to offer you my old position as Head Auditor."

***

The bar was relatively packed since it was a Friday evening, and Erik watched their waitress smoothly navigating the crowd with a tray bearing their draft beers and a basket of truffle fries. "Enjoy your meal, fellas," she said, giving Erik a warm inviting look before leaving them to their food. Erik took a long swig of his beer before realising Charles' eyes - infinitely warmer than the waitress's could ever be - were fixed on him. "What?" Erik asked, guarded.

"That one likes you." Charles tilted his head in her direction, where she was shooting their table surreptitious glances over the heads of her other customers. "I'm quite certain that if you ask for her number, you'll get it."

"Not my type." Erik started attacking the fries, hoping Charles would leave it at that. "Damn, you're right. I didn't even know I was starving."

"The sooner you accept that I'm always right, the happier we'll all be," Charles said loftily, almost making Erik choke with laughter.

"Prat." The word came out sounding far more fond than Erik intended, so he quickly cleared his throat before Charles could notice. "So, before I came to meet you, something interesting happened."

"Do share." Charles started helping himself to the fries as well.

"I got a job offer," Erik said. "Well, two offers to be precise. One of them would mean I'd have to leave Westchester."

If Erik hadn't been watching Charles closely, he would have missed the way Charles stiffened in his seat, his smile a little strained. "Oh-- well, I'm happy for you that you have two offers." He didn't sound all that thrilled about it.

"The first offer is from the State Budget Office. They want me to take Shaw's old position since he's now your City Manager," Erik explained. "I'd have to go back to Hammer Bay to oversee the department."

"I see." Charles nodded impassively. "And the other opening?"

Erik brushed excess salt off his fingers. "Shaw asked me to be his assistant city manager."

The difference between Charles' reactions was like night and day. His smile was back to full brightness, his leg jiggling up and down in excitement. "Which means you'd stay here in Westchester?"

"Yeah, what do you think?" Erik felt like a fraud for feigning indecision. The way Charles had lit up like that only cemented his desire to stay here.

Charles was still smiling, his eyes a warm blue in the glow of the overhanging bar lights. "I think you should stay."

 

* * *

  
  
Two days. The 'Mutant and Proud' festival was two days away, and Charles found himself not having time to check in (or as Moira dryly put it, sneak in) at City Hall. Since the government shutdown, he had managed to slip unnoticed into the department most mornings, just to catch up on work and keep himself up to speed on the Stryker investigation. Sometimes there had been the nice bonus of getting to pester Erik a bit. Although Erik had made grumbling noises about Charles being non-essential personnel and therefore not allowed in, he had accepted Charles' offers of coffee and companionship anyway. Besides, the strongest facade of grumpiness couldn't disguise the pleasure in Erik's mind whenever Charles showed up unannounced. So Charles had simply continued.

Their dinner dates and bar hangouts...well, those were a _really_ nice unexpected bonus.

Charles ducked his head, hoping no one had noticed his cheeks were warm and probably flushed. Here he was in public - at the festival grounds in fact - blushing like a schoolboy. Thankfully, a chattering Raven and Bobby were distracted, sorting out the gift bags that Charles was packing. A few feet away, an armoured-skinned Armando was warning people to stand back as Alex prepared to blast something into two. There was a flutter of wings overhead; Charles looked up as Angel flew past with a banner to be hung at the stage. It was a beautiful night, the moon shining brilliantly in the sky. In the distance, the clock tower chimed nine. Charles realised with a start that most of the volunteers had not had dinner yet, and already he was starting to pick up on rumblings of hunger in the minds of those nearer to him.

Given that Kitty and Piotr had gone to meet with the bands performing for the festival, Charles guessed that people were looking to him for guidance at the moment. "We should take a dinner break," he announced. The relief in everyone's thoughts was almost palpable.

"I think Dominos might still be open," Alex suggested as he shrugged off the vest with the chest plate that Hank had made for him, to help control his powers. "Anyone up to split an order?"

Raven made a face. "Ugh, I'm sick of pizza."

Armando wrapped an arm around her sympathetically, oblivious to how Alex's eyes narrowed at them. "I know, I know. Too bad nothing else is open."

"Moira texted me earlier, she should be leaving City Hall soon," Charles said, glancing around at hopeful faces. "I could ask her if the Thai place nearby is still open."

"God yes, ask her," Raven pleaded. Smirking, Charles placed two fingers against his temple and closed his eyes. He could have called her, but Moira was in the habit of ignoring her phone for hours on end and he wanted to catch her before she left.

Therefore he was surprised to find that not only was Moira already on her way to the grounds, but there was a very familiar mind with her. _Erik's with you?_ he thought at her. _You told him about what we're doing for the festival?_

 _Relax, it was his idea to come here, not mine,_ Moira sent back. _I'll explain later._

***

Charles didn't have to wait long; the car containing Moira and Erik arrived in a matter of minutes. He could sense everyone's panic and bewilderment when they spotted Erik, wondering if he was here on official business. However, confusion quickly turned to pleasure and delight when Moira and Erik emerged from the car with scores of paper bags from the House of M, the burger joint downtown that was always blessed with long queues and raving Yelp reviews. "You brought food," a perplexed Armando said. Alex was warily eyeing the food, torn between his distrust of Erik and the overwhelming desire to tear at the burgers.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Erik had that faintly exasperated tone Charles was beginning to get familiar with. "Eat up before it gets cold."

"Is it poisoned?" Alex's grin faded when he caught the look on Charles' face.

Angel, who seemed to have taken a liking to Erik ever since her birthday party, was the first to accept a burger and take a juicy bite of it. Her eyes rolled up in pleasure. "Oh my god, guys, this is so _good_ \--"

"Outta my way." Raven was next, gleefully unwrapping her own burger and chomping into it. Her hand fluttered in front of her mouth. " _Jesus_ , no wonder this place is always packed!"

People surged forward then, accepting burgers from Erik and shakes from Moira. Most of the volunteers were too tired to go looking for chairs, merely sinking down to the grass and sitting cross-legged to enjoy their dinner. Charles watched them all, beyond touched that Erik would do this. He would readily admit that he had kept all mentions of the festival from Erik, not wanting to implicate him when there was already such an outcry about anything concerning government spending.

True, the festival this year was privately funded and volunteer-run. But Charles was certain that some other departments might cry foul and claim that Erik was giving special treatment to the Mutant Affairs Department by digging into the coffers of an already beleaguered town. Therefore it was in everyone's best interests if Charles kept Erik dissociated from anything to do with the festival.

It wasn't Erik that Charles didn't trust. Shaw, on the other hand…

"Here you go." Erik fished one last burger out of the bag, and there was a sticker tacked onto the wrapper that read 'NO ONIONS'. "This is yours."

Charles stared at Erik, touched. "You remembered." It felt like something that had happened a lifetime ago, the two of them having lunch in the courtyard as Charles had picked onions out of his salad with a grimace.

"Despite your accusations, I do pay attention," Erik said loftily, which made Charles chuckle.

Unwrapping his burger - which smelled heavenly - Charles found a pillar near the stage to lean against. Erik followed suit. "Erik," Charles said quietly. "How did you find out about the festival?"

Erik didn't seem bothered; in fact, he seemed thoughtful. "Shaw had a budget meeting about personnel," he said at last. "When it came to your department, he suggested getting rid of you as you draw the second highest salary. Moira came to your defence at once."

Charles couldn't help it, but his first instinct was to dip into Erik's mind for the memory of the incident, simply to ascertain that he was telling the truth. Indeed, Shaw's voice was clear and commanding as he called for Charles' dismissal. Moira was on her feet, insisting that Charles' role in the Mutant Affairs Department was pivotal.

However, Erik had deliberately left out one important fact: Erik himself had voiced his disagreement with Shaw's proposal, protesting just as vehemently as Moira herself. The depth of emotion tied to this memory was so overwhelming that Charles staggered backwards against the pillar for balance. _"In all my years of auditing, I have become used to people trying to help themselves to government funds," Erik had argued. "Charles is the first example I've seen where he's trying to **put more money in**."_

Charles retreated from the memory so suddenly that Erik winced. "You knew," Charles said, staring at Erik with wide eyes. "You knew about the foundation--"

"Of course I know," Erik said impatiently. "Dammit Charles, your family's name is strewn everywhere in this town. If Shaw weren't so busy looking out for himself, he would have figured it out too. 'Charles Francis' isn't exactly the most watertight alias."

Charles' burger was growing cold, but he could hardly bring himself to care. "Then why didn't you...say anything?" he asked feebly.

"What exactly should I say?" Erik's voice was unexpectedly gentle here. "That I should reprimand you for using your own money to make sure mutant kids had school buses? And to make sure mutants with volatile mutations have enough health insurance?" Erik seemed caught on his words here, but Charles could sense a swell of admiration in Erik's mind, tinged with a little incredulity that anyone could be this altruistic with no ulterior motive.

"Thank you." Charles looked down at his burger, which was now cold and unappealing. But the thought that Erik had gotten in a long queue to buy this for him - for _them_ , he corrected himself - made Charles take a bite.

Satisfied as he watched Charles eat, Erik leaned against the pillar and tilted his head back, staring at the night sky. "Anyway, Moira told Shaw that you and a few others were organising and funding the 'Mutant and Proud' festival out of your own pockets. That impressed Mayor Platt so much that Shaw's suggestion was thrown out of the window."

Charles glanced over at Erik, captivated by the long lean line of his throat, interrupted by the bump of his Adam's apple. "That's good to know."

 _He wasn't the only one who was impressed._ Erik thought this so strongly that Charles was almost sure Erik had voiced it out loud, but thankfully they were distracted by raucous cheers and wolf-whistles upon Piotr's and Kitty's return.

Judging from their long faces, there seemed to be bad tidings. "Cassidy and the Banshees are pulling out," Kitty announced glumly.

"What? No!" Raven cried. "But-- What are we going to do without our headliner? How did this happen?"

"Their manager heard the festival was cancelled due to the government shutdown and no one from our side informed him that the festival was back on," Piotr said with a grimace. "Sorry guys, I dropped the ball on this one. We were swamped with so much stuff that it slipped my mind."

Kitty scrubbed her face tiredly with a hand. "So since they didn't get the money and confirmation from us, they accepted an offer from another venue. They're gonna play in Utopia instead."

There was a chorus of disgusted groans and protests. "This is bullshit. Utopians are the _worst_ ," Alex said with feeling.

Erik raised a questioning eyebrow at Charles. _I'm going to guess this town has some fervent rivalry with Utopia?_

Charles sighed inwardly. _Top marks. It doesn't help that they have far more money and resources than we do._

"Okay look, calm down," Moira was saying. "We can fix this. Charles and I will go talk to the band tomorrow morning and try to work something out."

"Charles, you can't go. We'll need you here for the media preview and conference," Kitty said urgently. "Can't someone else go?"

"I will." Everyone stopped talking and stared at Erik, who seemed completely unfazed. "What? Maybe I can help."

"You?" Armando's eyes were as wide as saucers. "You're going to go persuade the band?"

"Or 'persuade' them?" Alex asked, his fingers forming air quotes.

"This is not the Sopranos," Raven said, rolling her eyes. "Erik's not going to bludgeon Sean Cassidy with a lead pipe."

"Of course," Erik said with disdain. "I work much better with cast-iron."  
  
  


* * *

 

Doubletime Studio was located downtown, a few blocks from City Hall. Moira was quiet and thoughtful in the car, and Erik appreciated that she wasn't one of those people who jabbered endlessly just to fill in the silence. "Let me do the talking," she told him as they emerged from his car, and Erik locked it with an absent wave. "I might be able to dangle a few carrots."

"Couldn't we just find another band to take their place?" Erik had to take longer strides to keep up with her pace.

"If you can find another mutant band from Westchester that has enough recognition to headline a festival, be my guest." Moira's wry, matter-of-fact tone made Erik understand a little better why she and Charles worked so well together.

He held his tongue as Moira gave their names at the reception, and they were given visitors' passes. He used his power to yank the heavy, soundproof door open, and muffled music began filling the corridor and reception area. "After you," he said to Moira, gesturing inwards.

She gave him a _look_ before stepping in, Erik following suit. They followed the music to its source: a band rehearsal in full swing in Studio 4, with a vaguely familiar ginger guy crooning into the mic. The song was catchy and upbeat, the sort of thing Erik's younger colleagues liked to blast in the office (in Shaw's absence, of course). He and Moira listened until the song ended with a loud 'whoop!' from the ginger singer. To Erik's surprise, the rest of the band ducked immediately as the singer laughed, reassuring them so that they stood upright again.

"It's his voice," Moira explained, although Erik hadn't asked. "It's his mutation, he has a sonic scream."

Erik raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you a walking encyclopedia of the town's mutants?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Moira muttered, which left Erik convinced that there was some truth to his half-joking question.

Sean spotted them through the glass window and waved gaily, loping out of the studio. "You guys from Utopia?" His voice was low and husky, and Erik couldn't imagine it ever being used as a weapon.

"No, we're actually from Westchester," Moira said. "I'm Moira MacTaggert, this is Erik Lehnsherr."

"Cool." Sean shook their hands, but Erik didn't miss the way Sean's gaze lingered on Moira. "Sorry about the gig, man. Nothin' personal, y'know?"

"We're here to try and convince you to change your mind," Moira said. "Due to the government shutdown, this is the first time the 'Mutant and Proud' festival is being organised by volunteers. Hiccups are bound to happen when there are so many areas to oversee."

"Look, I understand," Sean assured them. "Half the band are mutants too, there's nothing more than we want to headline our own festival. But Utopia's paying us way more than you guys. Our manager would have a shit fit if we turned down good money for this."

"So? Fuck him," Erik said bluntly. "You should seize the opportunity to do something for your fellow mutants."

Sean rolled his eyes. "That doesn't make sense. By that logic, we should play in Dublin for free because I'm Irish."

"You don't _sound_ Irish," Moira said skeptically.

"Second generation, baby." Sean wiggled his eyebrows at her, and Erik fought the temptation to strangle him with the mic cable.

"All right, look." Moira flicked her hair back dismissively. "How much is Utopia paying you?"

Sean told her. Moira pursed her lips, tilting her head in contemplation.

"Okay," she said after a long moment. "I'll personally match that."

Sean's jaw dropped open, while Erik turned to her. "Charles won't like this, he--"

"--doesn't have to know anything," she interrupted smoothly. "His foundation is already pouring so much money into the festival. Therefore, I'll be happy to take care of this myself."

"You can't do that," Sean said, looking back and forth between Erik and Moira. "You guys can't-- We can't take your money! I mean, your own personal money!"

"Sure you can," Moira said. "As long as you perform for the festival."

"Absolutely not," Sean insisted, before glancing back at his waiting bandmates who were watching them through the studio window. "Okay you know what, give me a sec."

Sean loped back into the studio again, rejoining his bandmates as they huddled together in a hushed discussion. Erik just eyed Moira with somewhat grudging admiration and respect. "If you want to persist with this madness," he said, "then at least let me chip in too."

"Why?" Moira asked guardedly. "You're not from Westchester."

"And you're not a mutant, but you're putting up your own money for a mutant cause," he said matter-of-factly. The ensuing silence seemed especially thick since they were in a soundproof space. Erik tried not to think about all the anti-human propaganda Shaw had been spewing at him over the years. Nonetheless, it still weighed oppressively at the back of his mind.

"You're all right," Moira finally said. The corner of her mouth was curved up in a knowing little smile. "I can see why Charles likes you."

Erik frowned at her, ignoring the way his heart leapt into his throat. "Likes me?" he echoed. "You mean, as a friend, or--"

Of course Sean chose that exact moment to stride out of the studio. "Okay guys, I've talked with the band," he announced. "We're going to do 'Mutant and Proud'. You don't have to pay us anything above the amount we first agreed on."

"That's good news," Moira conceded, before raising an eyebrow at him. "There's a catch, right?"

"No catch." Sean was grinning from ear to ear, a flush rising in his cheeks. "Except-- Well, maybe we could hang out after the festival? Get a drink or something?"

Erik ducked his head down, masking his chuckle with a cough. Moira glared at him before she nodded at Sean, her eyes warm. "Sounds great, actually."  
  
***  
  
Leaving Moira and Sean in the studio to discuss the finer details, Erik stepped outside for some fresh air. He retrieved his phone, which had been unusually quiet in the studio. The reception inside had been dismal.

As it floated in front of him, a series of buzzes brought it back to life as messages flooded his inbox. Most of them were from Charles, who couldn't resist asking him 'How did it go?' every five minutes. Biting back a smile, Erik was in the middle of thumbing a reply when he decided that he would very much prefer to hear Charles' voice. Moira's damning words refused to leave his brain: _I can see why Charles likes you_.

Charles picked up on the second ring. "Erik! How did it go?" The delight in his voice was somehow audible above the chaos Erik could hear in the background.

"Better than I expected," Erik admitted. Although he'd agreed to tag along with Moira, his inner pessimist had been certain that this was a fool's errand. "You have your headliner, Charles."

"What? That's bloody brilliant!" Charles exclaimed. "The rest will be thrilled, I have to tell--" His voice became muffled at this point, so Erik assumed that Charles had covered the mouthpiece and was happily sharing the good news with those nearby.

"Right, sorry." Charles let out a contented sigh. "I just-- I can't even begin to tell you how wonderful this is, my friend. How on earth did you manage it?"

There and then, Erik decided it would be best to omit the details about Moira and him offering to pool their money and pay the band on their own. "We had a discussion. Eventually Sean Cassidy agreed."

"What did it cost us?" Charles asked curiously.

"A date. With him." Erik tried not to roll his eyes again at Sean's increasingly hammy overtures towards Moira earlier. Erik would never be so blatantly obvious like that with someone he was interested in. _Maybe therein lies the problem,_ he thought reluctantly.

 _"_ Oh, I see." For some odd reason, Charles sounded flat and deflated, as though all his earlier joy had suddenly left his voice. "That's...good, I guess."

"Charles, are you all right?" Erik ignored the instinctive awareness prickling his skin, certain that something had gone wrong but he wasn't sure what. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, nothing at all." Charles was now overdoing it with the fake cheer. "I--I have to go, Raven needs me. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

"Uh, okay." But Erik was now talking to a dead line. Charles had already hung up.

Erik frowned down at his phone. Clearly Charles was upset with the idea of Sean getting a date with Moira. Erik refused to contemplate what this meant, because it contradicted everything that he had observed over the past two months with Charles. Was Charles jealous? It sure as hell sounded like it. Erik grit his teeth, swallowing down his disappointment. Maybe friendship had always been Charles' motive for seeking Erik's company.

"Hey." Moira emerged from Doubletime Studios, holding a stack of Cassidy and the Banshee CDs that Sean must have surely thrust upon her. "Ready to head back to the festival site?"

"You know, I think I should head back," Erik said quietly. "It's been a long week."

Moira regarded him with her usual steady, assessing gaze. "Anything wrong?"

"Nothing," he said a little sharply, ignoring her frown. "Come on, I'll drop you off at the site before I head back."

 

* * *

The 'Mutant and Proud' festival was coming along swimmingly. But Charles could not be more miserable.

It was much easier to simply throw his entire being into work. He answered phone calls from his fellow volunteers, harried suppliers and curious members of the public. He made kettle corn with Angel and Armando, even managing a smile when Alex sneezed and accidentally singed a good portion of the corn. He entertained Warren who had brought some prospective donors to the Worthington Cause, and he urged Kitty to take a break, covering her duties while she grabbed a nap in a nearby tent. Things were going according to plan so nicely that it seemed like they might not have to work through the night, as previously feared.

Sean Cassidy and his band turned up after dinner for a quick sound-check, escorted by a tired but smiling Moira who was chatting to Sean quite a bit. Charles had been so busy all day that he hadn't managed to talk much to her, apart from the occasional telepathic check-in. Even more curiously, Erik was nowhere to be found. Given than Sean had asked Erik out - and Erik had agreed - Charles was certain that they would be glued at the hip.

It was too depressing to think about. Charles had been so certain that Erik had felt the same way about him. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time his telepathy had led him astray (along with a huge helping of wishful thinking).

"Stop moping," Raven chided him. "You got your headliner, what are you so miserable about?"

"I'm just exhausted." Charles knew that excuse wouldn't fly, and sure enough Raven's eyes momentarily glinted yellow with amusement.

"Rrrrrright," she drawled, shaking her head. "Bet you won't be tired if Tall, Shark and Handsome comes back."

Mercifully she had left him alone after that; there really was a lot of work in the preparations, and none of them had the time to spare for idle chat. There were some issues with the stage flooring, and Charles was helping to settle an argument that had erupted between Piotr and Kitty. He was tired enough to consider a little mental nudge, and he was frustrated with himself for not being able to stop thinking about Erik all day.  
  
***  
  
_He's beautiful like this._

Charles awoke with a start to find himself in the First Aid tent, and to his surprise Erik was hovering over him curiously. The 'beautiful' comment was still lingering in Erik's mind, but now that Charles was awake, he could feel Erik hurriedly tucking the errant thought away, like someone who had taken the wrong note out of a wallet.

The aroma of coffee in the air alerted him to the latte cups that Erik was carrying and he blinked owlishly at Erik. The flaps of the tent fluttered in the breeze, letting in slivers of pale grey light. Was it early morning already? "What are you doing here, Erik?" It was a little abrupt, but Charles was too tired and sad to be diplomatic.

He wondered if he imagined the momentary flicker of hurt crossing Erik's face. "I thought you might want some coffee."

Not just any coffee, but Charles' favourite from Brooke's too. He hesitantly accepted the cup from Erik, taking a careful sip. "Thank you."

"No problem." Erik was watching him carefully, as though he were preparing himself to be dismissed at any moment.

"Did you come to see Sean?" Charles tried to keep his voice light, but the perplexed expression on Erik's face was unexpected.

"Who?" Erik frowned at him. In his mind, several question marks were popping up everywhere.

"Sean," Charles repeated, a little less certain this time. "Sean Cassidy? The singer?"

Erik snorted. "Why the hell would I want to see him?"

"You said-- your date?" More than a little out of his depth, Charles decided to bend his own rules and swept through Erik's recent memories. It didn't take long to unearth the meeting at Doubletime Studios with Moira and the band, Sean grinning a little too fondly at Moira, Erik rolling his eyes for the hundredth time...

Oh. OH. Charles gaped at Erik, relief and joy and embarrassment warring within him like spoiled children. "Sean wanted a date with Moira, not you," he said weakly.

Erik raised his eyebrows. "Of course he did, who do you think--" For a moment Erik paused, then pointed at himself. "Wait a minute. You thought that Sean asked _me_? And that I _wanted_ to go out with him?"

Charles opened his mouth to defend himself, but he was at a loss for words. He stared down at the groundsheet, his cheeks aflame. Outside, they could hear the low murmurs of people walking past the First Aid tent in search of some breakfast.

Erik was mentally considering several different things he wanted to say, before he settled on, "Is this why you were so upset with me yesterday?"

One tweak. One tweak would be all Charles needed to make Erik forget the entire mortifying incident had ever happened. But he couldn't bring himself to do that to Erik. He nodded mutely instead, taking a gamble and meeting Erik's eyes.

Erik's gaze was tender. "I don't want to date Sean," was all he said, but the storm of emotion in his mind contained everything else he wasn't saying out loud.

"I didn't think tall-lanky-and-ginger would be your type," Charles admitted.

"No." Erik's wide mouth was curling in a smile. "My type is short, argumentative brunettes."

There was a long pause during which Erik was grinning at him. In turn Charles was grinning at his shoes. "You're ridiculous," he eventually said.

"Speak for yourself." Erik got to his knees, so that he was closer to Charles' eye-level. He made an absent motion with his right hand and the tent zipped itself closed.

"Let's just agree that we both are," Charles said, a little breathless. Erik was leaning in so close to him that he could smell his aftershave.

"Deal," was all Erik said, before he leaned in and met Charles' lips.

***

"Good night, Westchester!" Sean's voice echoed throughout the festival grounds, inciting roaring applause and cheers from the crowd. "We are Cassidy and the Banshees, we'll see you again on our Genosha tour!"

There was the heavy thump of footsteps and shrieks of laughter as the band left the stage, and the volunteer stage crew quickly ran on to dismantle the drum set and equipment. The audience was buzzing with excitement and energy, still on a high after Cassidy and the Banshees' electrifying performance. The band had been one of the best headliners the 'Mutant and Proud' festival had ever fielded.

Unfortunately, Charles couldn't bring himself to care about that at the moment, not when Erik was sensually kissing and nuzzling his neck in a hidden corner backstage.

"We should go thank the band." Charles was a little breathless, but he could hardly be blamed given that he and Erik had been ferociously making out for the last three songs of Cassidy and the Banshees' set. At some point Erik had grabbed Charles' hips and hitched him up onto a ledge, pinning Charles against the backdrop with his deliciously long, lean body.

Fuck, Charles couldn't keep his hands off that narrow waist and those trim hips, accentuated by those pressed khakis that Erik liked to wear outside the office. They were tented at the crotch, which Charles couldn't resist running his fingers over just to feel and hear Erik moaning into his mouth. It was quite a thrill to discover that Erik kissed Charles with the same focused intensity he devoted to his work. One of his hands had untucked Charles' shirt, working its way under the fabric so he could palm Charles' skin.

 _Charles, where are you?_ Raven projected at him.

 _Busy_ , he managed to reply before his brain was derailed by Erik undoing the button and zip of Charles' jeans with his powers, freeing his aching erection.

 _Still with me?_ Erik's mental tone was teasing yet petulant at not having 100% of Charles' attention. Charles decided to remedy that by grabbing Erik's very firm arse and squeezing it for dear life, causing some girders nearby to rattle in surprise.

 _I've always been with you, darling,_ Charles sent back, bundling with it all his fondness, affection, desire and something else that was starting to take the shape of Erik's name. _Always._

 

THE END


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